Kindle Unlimited

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Dragon history was easy. This particular dragon? Anything but.

Blurb

I was sent to Dragon’s Ending to uncover lost dragon history. What I found was Dominic Bedwyr.

The heir to one of Britain’s oldest dragon-shifter families, Dominic has a reputation for turning heads and causing trouble in equal measure. He flirts. He provokes. He has an infuriating habit of appearing when least expected and interrupting my research.

And each time I think I’ve worked Dominic out, he proves me wrong. Because behind the studied indifference, I catch glimpses of someone else entirely. He’s a man born to inherit everything, yet trusted with nothing.

Before long, I catch myself listening for his footsteps. Waiting for him to appear by my side, pretending not to help and somehow making me laugh anyway.

But dragon families are complicated. Dominic’s, most of all.

It’s one thing to fall in love with Dominic. It’s another to fall in love with the Bedwyr heir.

Excerpt

Dominic tilted his head and met my gaze, amusement in those dark brown eyes, which deepened as I moved my chair away from him slightly.

“Find what you’re looking for yet?” he asked.

I couldn’t be sure, but I felt that was double-edged. I chose to answer the question and ignore any other meaning. Perhaps he was used to guys simply keeling over into his arms whenever he wanted, but I had no interest in being one of them.

“I’m not looking for anything specific,” I told him.

“You’re sure about that?” he asked, and that lazily amused smile was still in his eyes. Which I was going to stop looking into right now.

Unfortunately, I tore my glance away just in time to notice the way he hitched his hip onto the table. Right next to me, making it impossible not to notice his thighs or think about the fluid ease with which he moved. It was as calculated as everything else about him.

“You know,” he said, “I’m sure I could help you out.”

I wasn’t always the quickest to pick up when someone was flirting with me, but there was no mistaking the intent in his voice. It had lost its usual drawl, turning low and smooth.

“Can you read medieval Latin?” I asked him. “Because that would be helpful.”

He just looked at me, his lips tugging slightly at the corners. “Does Welsh work?”

“Oh, God, yes.” Because I’d already discovered the limits of my Welsh. Before I could stop myself, I was reaching for the document I’d had to put to one side earlier. “There’s this whole section here—”

“So what made you decide to start halfway through the records rather than at the beginning?”

My irritation at his interruption evaporated as I realised what he’d said. Surely he couldn’t mean there were even more?

“I haven’t found anything further back than these yet,” I told him.

He shrugged and moved away. To my relief.

“And you’re just hoping something turns up.” He leaned against the shelves like he had every right to be there. Like they’d been put up for that purpose alone.

“That’s the general idea.”

“So what happens when the thing you need to see is actually somewhere else?”

That made me pause. “If you have something to say—”

“I do,” he said, pushing off from the shelves.

Too close again. Deliberately so. My dragon stirred, low and uneasy as he reached out to the ledger in front of me and moved it slightly, just enough to be out of square. It took every bit of willpower not to correct it immediately.

Dominic glanced down at the papers, then back at me, as if weighing whether I was worth the effort.

“Come on,” he said.

I frowned. “Where?”

“You want older than this,” he said.

My attention sharpened despite myself. “What does that mean?”

He watched me for an instant, and I saw that flicker of satisfaction again. He’d got me hooked, and he knew it.

“The castle.”

Phoebe had told me about it over supper. Only she’d said there was hardly anything left. “The ruins?” I checked.

“Unless you’ve found another one.”

“Your father—” I started.

“My father,” Dominic said, very mildly, “isn’t here.”

I hesitated. Rhodri didn’t like information shared without his consent.

“Come if you want,” he added, already turning towards the door. “Or don’t.”

Which was deeply irritating, because he knew I couldn’t resist. I closed my laptop with more force than necessary.

“If this turns out to be a waste of time—”

“You can come back and alphabetise something,” he said over his shoulder.

I stood up, because it was either that or hurl my laptop at his head.

About the Author

Joy Lynn Fielding lives in a small English market town, where she nurtures enthusiasms for vintage aircraft, horses and gardening. An avid researcher for her books, she delights in uncovering unusual facts and sharing them with anyone within earshot. She insists this has never led to anyone hiding behind the furniture.

Joy writes at the pace her health allows, powered by enthusiasm, optimism and, above all, coffee. She hopes her books offer good company to anyone navigating their own winding paths.

Author Links

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NEW RELEASE: “Wonder Boy: Owned”

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:September 19, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited
Post comments:0 Comments

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Wonder Boy: Owned

Author: Calan Mercer

Publisher: Valleyburn Press

Cover Artist: Neslihan Yardimli for BookCoverZone

Release Date: September 15, 2026

Tense/POV: third person, past tense, three alternating POV

Genres: Contemporary MM Dark/Erotic Romance, BDSM

Tropes: Forbidden love, workplace, boss/employee, age gap, power exchange, possessive mmc, insta-obsession (touch him and die), psychological, hurt/comfort, aftercare heavy

Themes: Identity, Belonging, Complicity, Power as intimacy, Self-destruction, Legacy and ownership, Survival

Length: approx. 129 000 words

It is book one in a trilogy. It ends as an HFN where it is clear there is more to resolve.

Heat Rating: 5 flames

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

He came for the job. He left owned.

Blurb

Alex Mercer was supposed to be untouchable: the golden heir to his family’s powerful law firm in Los Angeles, two years of associate experience under his belt, dispatched to Las Vegas to bring the chaotic Global Combat League to heel.

Instead, he met Jack Doyle.

Compact. Battle-hardened. Close-cropped dark hair just beginning to gray. The cold, calculating stare of a man who built an empire from nothing and never learned how to lose. One command from across the desk and Alex’s perfectly tailored world began to unravel — jacket, tie, shirt — every step an exit offered and refused, every refusal a choice Alex made with open eyes.

What started as an interview ended with Alex stripped bare on Jack’s desk, claimed so thoroughly he could still feel it weeks later. What started as a contract became something neither of them had a name for. And what started in Las Vegas wasn’t going to stay there.

Some men break you. Jack owned him. And the worst part? Alex let him.

A dark MM romance about power, possession, and the cost of being chosen by a man who doesn’t share what he claims.

Excerpt

“Kid,” Jack said. “You any good at not fucking up?”

Alex registered the question for what it was, not the interview he had prepared for, but the one underneath it, the one that wanted to know whether he was going to give a law school answer or an honest one. He had prepared the law school answer on the flight. He looked at Jack and set it aside.

“Depends on the definition,” Alex said. Then he looked at Jack and reconsidered. “Yes, sir.”

Jack’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Sir. I like that. Most of these Ivy League pricks walk in here calling me Jack like we’re old pals.” He held the look. “What does ‘yes’ mean to you?”

“It means you tell me what’s coming before it arrives, I keep it from becoming a problem. You call me after it’s already a problem, I make it go away.” He held Jack’s eyes. “Either way works. I’d rather the first.”

Jack regarded him for a moment. Then he set down what he was reading and leaned back.

“Marco says you’re good,” he said. “That means something, coming from him. I know your father. I know his firm. They’ve been handling my contracts for three years.” He picked up his mug and took a drink. “If you’re even half the lawyer Richard is, you’re worth the conversation.”

“I’m not my father,” Alex said. There was no edge to it. He was stating a fact. “But I can do the job.”

Jack looked at him with the full quality of attention he would come to understand was Jack’s primary mode: complete, unhurried, costing the subject of it nothing and requiring everything. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” Alex said.

Jack almost smiled. He set the mug down and leaned forward, elbows on the desk.

“Alexander Mercer. Thirty. Top of your class at USC Law. You know why you’re here?”

“My father said you needed a personal attorney. Available at all hours. Fighter issues, sponsorship conflicts, anything that doesn’t go through the league office.”

“That’s the version that goes on paper.” Jack tapped the desk once with two fingers. “Off paper it’s simpler. You work for me. The league, the fighters, your old man — none of them own you. I do. I snap my fingers at three in the morning because some idiot heavyweight punched a casino bouncer, you’re already in a car. I need an NDA before breakfast because one of my champions knocked up a ring-girl, you’re already writing it. You breathe when I say breathe. You eat when I say eat. You exist for the GCL. The GCL is me. I need someone I can trust completely to have my back. Not the league’s back. Mine.” He let that land. “You want this job, Mercer?”

Alex had known, somewhere on the flight over, that he wanted it. Not only the money, though the money was real. It was the room he was sitting in. The building below, with its blood smell and its training cages. The man across the desk, who had not yet said a single thing that was anything other than exactly what he meant. Alex had spent two years in an environment that prided itself on precision and had not yet been in a room where precision was this unconcerned with its own appearance.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “I want the job.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed, dark and unreadable. He let the words hang in the air for a long ten seconds, the air conditioner droning in the background. Then he smiled, slow and predatory, a smile that had closed million-dollar deals and ended careers in the same breath.

“Good,” Jack said. “Then you’re going to prove it.”

The shift in the room was immediate, like the temperature had dropped ten degrees. Alex’s mouth went dry. He’d expected a hard interview. Maybe some locker-room hazing. Not… this. Whatever this was.

Jack stood up. He came around the desk, without announcement, without the excess of motion that would have signaled awareness of being watched. He stopped three feet away and crossed his arms and looked at Alex the way he had been looking at him since Alex walked in, which was completely and without apology.

“Take off your jacket.”

Alex blinked. Once. His heart slammed against his ribs like it wanted out. Not standard. A line. A test. The kind powerful men drew in the sand to see who’d cross it and who’d run.

Jack’s voice stayed even, almost conversational, but there was steel underneath. “You heard me. Jacket. Off. Or you can stand up right now, walk out that door, tell your Daddy I’m a crazy prick, and we’ll both pretend this meeting never happened. Your call, kid. Last chance to keep your suit clean and your dignity intact.”

About the Author

Calan Mercer writes dark, character-driven romance about powerful men and the things they can’t control. A nine-year Army veteran with deployments to Iraq and Kosovo, he earned his MFA in creative writing from San Diego State University and has spent years ringside, drawn to the brutal intimacy of combat sports and the speed of the ice.

Wonder Boy: Owned is his debut and the first book in the Global Combat League series. He lives in San Diego with his husband and four very opinionated cats.

Author Links

Website | Facebook | Newsletter Sign-up

Twitter/Pinterest/TikTok @calanmercer

Instagram/Threads: @calanmercerwrites

Hilarina and the Ogre | The Ogre Comes Home

NEW RELEASE & UPCOMING EPILOUGE: Hilarina and The Ogre A & The Ogre Comes Home by October Arden

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:September 15, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
Post comments:0 Comments

NEW RELEASE and UPCOMING EPILOGUE

Book Title: Hilarina and the Ogre (and an extended epilogue, The Ogre Comes Home)

Author and Publisher: October Arden

Cover Artist: Dhananjaya

Release Dates: September 15, 2026 (The Ogre Comes Home: October 13)

Tense/POV: Close third, past tense, alternating POV

Genres: MM Contemporary Romance with dark elements

For Hilarina and the Ogre: Friends to lovers, found family, ace/demi spectrum romance, protector hero, first love, bullying, size difference, hurt/comfort, dark themes with a hopeful core.

For The Ogre Comes Home: Reunion romance, hurt/comfort, amnesia, recovery from trauma, meeting the parents (again), marriage proposal, domestic intimacy

Heat Rating: 2 flames

Length: 81 000 words (17 000 words for the epilogue)

It is a main story, plus an epilogue with no cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Hilarina and the Ogre | The Ogre Comes Home

A ballerina, an ogre, and a love that refuses to stay forgotten.

Blurb

Hilary Davis knows how to disappear.
After years of being mocked as “Hilarina Ballerina,” he’s perfected the act. He has a popular girlfriend he can’t stand, friends he doesn’t trust, and a strict rule never to dance where anyone can see. It’s a brittle kind of safety, but it’s all he has.
Then he meets Trenton Wells.
Massive, solemn, and the school’s most devoted outcast, Trenton doesn’t play by anyone’s rules. He reads through every class, speaks with unnerving calm, and sees straight through every mask Hilary wears including the ones Hilary himself doesn’t know he’s wearing.
What starts as a simple trade (calculus tutoring for ballet lessons) becomes something neither of them can walk away from. Choosing Trenton means losing every shield Hilary built to survive. But as the town’s cruelty sharpens from slurs to violence, Trenton is willing to become any kind of monster to keep Hilary safe, and Hilary will tear his own world apart to stay at his ogre’s side.
What they don’t know yet is that some devotions outlast memory itself and some damage can only be undone by the people brave enough to keep choosing each other.

Spanning youth and adult trauma, Hilarina and the Ogre is a dark, fiercely tender queer romance exploring the scars of first love, the fragile hope of second chances, and the unyielding weight of an absolute love.

The Epilogue

Trenton Wells remembers everything now.
The family that loves him. The years of forgetting. And the man who followed him across state lines, through seven separate lifetimes, without once giving up (even when it nearly destroyed him.)
So coming home should be the easy part, but Trenton can’t stop tallying the cost. The fifteen years of life Hilary spent chasing him. A body that still flinches at the wrong touch. And an arm that aches when it rains, a permanent reminder of the night that shattered them both.
Hilary doesn’t want his guilt, he wants his ogre whole, present, and done apologizing for the things that were never his fault.
The Ogre Comes Home is the story about what happens after the rescue, and the fumbling, fierce, and sometimes ridiculous work of re-building a life with the only person who matters.

Excerpt

The next day was worse. They were smart enough to take their bags with them when they went to lunch, but when they returned to the classroom, there was semen on their desks and smeared into their textbooks. Hilary probably would have recognized it for what it was regardless, but the empty condom wrappers helped. It brought the fear back, and not lightly. He couldn t afford to replace his textbooks.

When he went to Varda, he struggled to keep his voice even. Knock it off.

She turned those pretty eyes up at him. Knock what off?

Do you know how expensive textbooks are?

I can think of one way for you to get money.

He might have taken her up on it. It wasn t just his own books that had been ruined, after all. But Trenton took him by the wrist and dragged him away. Don t talk to her.

She s responsible for this. If I accept her offer

And for the rest of the year have her around while I m with you? Don t. I ll buy the books.

Hilary had to ask. And it wasn t because of the condoms or the spray paint. Do you But he had no idea how to make the words come out. How did you form words like that? And say them out loud?

But Trenton knew what he was asking. So to be in your life I have to want to fuck you? Is that it?

The boy didn t shout the words. His voice was even as always. But he was angry, and it frightened a weenie like Hilary to hear it. Even knowing the anger wasn t directed his way, and that Trenton was the only person in school who cared about him, it was frightening. It s just that you re nice. You re too nice to me. And the things you say. No one else says things like that.

Yes, they do.

In books, but not

I m not going to be an asshole just to fit your notion of friendship. I finally found you. You don t know how long I ve been waiting to find you.

That was just more evidence against the boy. Trenton could have grabbed him by the face and shoved his tongue down his throat, and it wouldn t have been more shocking to Hilary than those words were. But Trenton still wasn t done.

People like me we don t get chosen. We live our quiet lives just trying not to take up space, hoping to get through each day so we can disappear into a book by the end of it. But you chose me. When you came to talk to me, and when you asked for help with the math. You didn t mean for it to become anything. But what else could I do? I had to try. With you because it was you I had no choice but to try.

Hilary s eyes were prickling. It was the words, yes. Words he d never heard in his life. But also the tone. Trenton was still calm, or trying to be, but it was like he d spent the whole morning reading aloud; his voice was hoarse with it.

Hilary was forced to look down, unable to meet that earnest expression head-on. I m ordinary. I m so ordinary, Trent. I m not even smart, why would you

Trenton hugged him, though it was more accurate to say he grabbed him, those arms like a vise. I wanted this, the boy said, meaning the embrace, I wanted to do this since the night of the party.

That was impossible to believe. While we were sorting through the garbage?

When you offered the trade. To teach me while I taught you.

So even earlier, then.

But that was selfish, Hilary objected. I needed you more than you needed me.

I ll always need you. Trenton s face was in his shoulder, a little muffled, but not enough to obscure the words.

It left Hilary helpless, his hands raised, hovering there at the boy s back. This isn t normal. What you re saying whatever s happening

And you want to be normal, do you? Because you were enjoying it so much. Your girlfriend and your fake friends.

It came again that urge to hit Trenton. No, not hit him. Hilary wasn t sure what it was, but it made his hands clench, and finally, finally, he was able to grab hold, his fingers crushing Trenton s shirt in his hands. I m not worth it. You re going to see. You re going to be so embarrassed when you wake up and realize.

Then let me be embarrassed, Trenton said. I promise you ll be waiting longer than I will.

About the Author

October Arden writes emotionally raw queer stories that live somewhere between literary fiction and romance. Their work explores fluid identities, found families, co-dependent devotion, and complicated love often through the lens of characters who are chronically ill, neurodivergent, or quietly self-destructive. These are stories for anyone who’s ever felt unwanted or unseen, where even the most damaged hearts can find a home.

October loves hearing from readers, so feel free to reach out, ask questions, or suggest what you’d like to see next. You can also join the newsletter to stay in touch and as a thank you, you’ll receive a free copy of Starting with Cake, a quietly unhinged neurodivergent love story full of snack cakes, janitor uniforms, and the kind of care that sneaks up on you. Find out about new books and other extras at octoberarden.com

Author Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Instagram

Newsletter Sign-up | Bluesky

RECENT RELEASE: “Feral Hearts” by AJ Church

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:July 29, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
Post comments:0 Comments

RECENT RELEASE

Book Title: Feral Hearts

Author: A.J. Church

Publisher: Nytshadow Publishing

Cover Artist: Gigi at G-Cat Designs

Release Date: July 17, 2026

Tense/POV: First person, dual POV

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual obsession

Themes: Bisexual awakening, mental health

Length: 129,000 words/565 pages

It is the first book in a standalone series and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

There’s nothing closer to love than a good hatred.

Blurb

Aubie

I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I’ve never let that stand in the way of my two favorite past times–breaking hearts and disappointing my family. An ardent fan of the smooth line and shallow hookup, I excel at keeping things gliding on the surface. Feelings, when I have them, are reserved for the few I call friends. Until the night I walk into Club Eros and come face to face with Cutter Knight. Tall, dark, and mouthwateringly handsome, he’s also an uptight prick. Doesn’t stop me from wanting to toss all my rules out the window for just one taste.

Cutter

Once upon a time I was the golden boy of my family. Future planned out. Ducks all in a row. Then my idiot brother threw my world into a tailspin. Now I go out of my way to avoid his type, which is why I hate Aubie Gauthier. He’s a spoiled brat with an old money trust fund and a reputation for being a shameless slut. And for some reason he’s set his sights on me. I’m not gay, and even if I was, I wouldn’t be interested in someone like Aubie. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to matter to him.

Excerpt from Chapter 1

“FIRST TIME?”

I glance up at the tall hunk standing next to me and shake my head.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says with a smile. “You’ll do fine.”

“Oh, I’m not nervous.” More like excited.

I’ve spent two days working on my routine. The biggest part of that was selecting my outfit. I chose a charcoal gray velvet jacket, sheer black shirt, slinky black silk pants and dance slippers. I kept my makeup to just some eyeliner and a little shadow. I’m going for a debaucherous lord of the manor aesthetic. I picked out my music–Parked Outside by the Afghan Whigs–and threw it on a thumbdrive for the DJ, then loaded everything in a suit bag.

I stand when the stage manager calls my name and head through the short hallway to the front of the house. From the moment I stroll onto the stage and my music starts to play, I know I’m home. The mechanics of taking off my clothes are secondary to having all those eyes watching me undress, knowing that I’ll soon be naked in front of them. I nearly come before the first article of clothing hits the floor.

After dancing provocatively for half a minute, I unbutton the jacket and flash my chest under the sheer black shirt while sliding the fingers of one hand into my mouth and sucking each one dry. When I’ve got their attention, I start to lose clothing. Jacket first. One shoulder at a time. Once it’s gone, I run my fingers down the front of the shirt, unbuttoning as I go. I dance like that for a chorus with my best bedroom eyes, daring the audience to look away.

You don’t want to miss this.

My hand slides down inside my waistband, making a show of cupping my stiffening cock before pulling on the drawstring to untie my pants. I bite my lip and offer a naughty grin as I let go of the string. The silky fabric slides down my legs to pool at my feet.

I step out of them and strut over to the pole, arching my back and tangling my hands above my head as I start to writhe my back against it. The shirt slides off my shoulders and I let it drop to the floor, leaving me in nothing but the sheer thong. The flimsy garment barely contains my straining cock.

I caress myself while I dance, lost in the music.

Lost in the moment.

The sexual tension in the room is exquisite. Like a bow string being pulled taut. The music vibrates against me and I grind my hips to its beat, letting my mouth drop open to rim my lips with a teasing tongue. Come taste me, my eyes say.

I can feel it. They’re hungry for me.

For me.

Let’s give them what they want. I slide my hands down my chest to fondle my nipples, causing my cock to noticeably twitch. At this rate I’ll be making a mess on this stage. I move my hands down to my hips then turn away and rotate my hips, humping the air. Wishing I had a warm body to fuck right now. I can at least make them think I do.

I slide my fingers under the thin straps of the thong and bend over to slowly roll it down my legs, baring my hole. I look over my shoulder to get their response.

Now this is addictive. All those eyes, all this bare flesh. How could they possibly not want me?

I turn to face my admirers, finally free to prowl the stage completely naked.

And prowl I do, vacillating between bold, come hither looks and coy smiles with just enough of my inner slut to make my moves seductively feline. I know I hit the sweet spot when people start squirming in their seats. One man in the front row yells, “Oh honey, let me help you with that,” when I slide my finger over the head of my cock and bring it to my nose. I take a deep whiff before plunging the finger between my lips and moaning.

Damn, I’m turning myself on.

About the Author

Growing up a military brat meant I was always the new kid in school, so my friends were often the characters I found in the books I read and later wrote. I love dreaming up bad boys and the trouble they can get into, and lucky for them, I’m a sucker for a well-earned happily ever after. Or at least a happily for now.

Social Media Links

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NEW RELEASE: “Johnny Ultra”

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:June 29, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
Post comments:0 Comments

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Johnny Ultra

Author and Publisher: Kristoffer Gair

Cover Artist: Ed Murphy

Release Date: June 26, 2026

Tense/POV: Third person

Genres: Young Adult, Superhero, Comedy

Tropes: Reluctant Hero

Themes: Friendship

Heat Rating: No sexual content

Length: 84 000 words/ Approx 270 pages

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger. There is the promise of possibly continuing.

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Not all heroes are adults.

Blurb

Not all heroes are adults.

Tragedy struck Gabriel Fletcher at the age of eight. Losing his parents felt catastrophic enough, but to be sent to live with his aunt and uncle who didn’t want him? Life couldn’t get much worse.

Sho Tashiro only ever wanted a best friend—someone to share adventures and play video games with—and who wouldn’t make fun of his heritage or treat him like a sidekick.

Little did they know their meeting and years of friendship that followed might be more than fate. What if every world in every universe had a Gabriel and a Sho? And what would happen if Earth was invaded by a creature that threatened to annihilate everything they loved?

One trained in martial arts + one with self-proclaimed superior Asian genetics = a friendship and adventure that feels like they jumped right out of their favorite science fiction TV shows and movies they watched as children!

The fate of the world is in the hands of two fifteen-year-old boys. What could go wrong?

Excerpt

“So”—Mike interrupted what might quickly turn into an even more awkward conversation—“are you and Sho—”

“No.” Gabriel realized why someone might think he and Sho were together. They certainly bickered like an old married couple.

“By Hachiman, the Shinto god of war, no.” Sho folded his arms. “The clueless Caucasian child here should be so lucky.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “If that’s what you call lucky.” They’d kill each other. Absolutely kill each other.

They continued toward B House at a leisurely pace.

“I am his type, though,” Sho continued.

Mike peered at Gabriel. “You have a type?”

“Don’t even think about it, Sho.”

“Myself?” Of course Sho would find a way to inject a bit of himself into his explanation. “I prefer blondes because gentlemen prefer blondes… or at least that’s a movie title I heard someone from the drama club mention. I like blonde girls, if you need me to be more specific. I like a little yin with my yang, a little light with my striking, dashing, and sophisticated dark.” The explanation was getting a bit thick, even for Sho. “Gabe here likes ‘ese’.”

Mike arched an eyebrow. “‘ese’?”

“Stop.” Gabriel knew what was coming, and that it was payback for mentioning Sho’s attempt at handling a sword.

“Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese—”

Gabriel cringed. “This is how rumors get started.”

“—Taiwanese, Burmese—”

“Please use your internal voice,” Gabriel pleaded and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.

“Shall I mention the Japanese actor on Kamen Rider Den-O who started you on your way through that minefield in a boy’s life known as puberty?” Sho asked matter-of-factly.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Or the Chinese assistant instructor in that class you take after school you don’t like anybody knowing about?”

“What about him?”

Sho grinned. “You said one look in his eyes and he restored your faith in an afterlife and the concept of reincarnation.”

Gabriel desperately tried to think of a reason that sounded remotely plausible. “He brought out the deeper thoughts in my life.”

“Then there was his Vietnamese friend—”

“Sho—”

“—who you said made you experience multiple sarcasms while trying to show off how amusing you think you are every time he spoke to you. I’d be remiss, of course, if I didn’t remind you about the Taiwanese exchange student we had last year.”

“Quit exaggerating!” Gabriel wiped his forehead again before sweat dripped into his eyes.

“Procter & Gamble actually sent you a personalized Christmas card for single-handedly keeping the demand for Puffs Super Soft Tissues alive during those months.”

“I hate you.” Gabriel’s face raged like an inferno. “Don’t let Sho talking about being a samurai fool you, Mike, or any of the other words that fly out of his mouth because he wasn’t born with a filter. Sho’s actually one of the most down-to-earth people I know, and the smartest. I have to struggle to get decent grades, and they come easy to him. Sho doesn’t brag about his grades, but he does frequently use his powers for evil, usually when he’s giving me a hard time, like now.”

Mike laughed. “So, Sho isn’t one of those Asian stereotypes who plays the violin or piano, or takes karate lessons?”

They reached the stairs and headed up.

“No. Not at all. He has a phenomenal talent for drawing, though. You should see all the scrapbooks he keeps his sketches and ideas in. They’re amazing!”

“And don’t let Gabe here fool you either.” Sho added his two cents. “I may tease him from now until eternity, but he’s the one who took piano lessons—”

“Free lessons from a community center, thank you.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. The lessons hadn’t been anything fancy or above his means. Someone somewhere at the community center knew he was an orphan, the secretary there had called him with the offer, and he’d decided to give it a try. It got him out of an empty house.

“—and while he may let the bullies pick on him, he’s actually got a second degree—”

“Sho!” Gabriel snapped.

About the Author

Kristoffer Gair grew up in Fraser, MI and is a graduate of Grand Valley State University. He currently lives in a suburb of Detroit.

Social Media Links

Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram

NEW RELEASE: “Inescapable Fate” by Jessamine Kingley

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:June 20, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
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NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Inescapable Fate (D’Vaire, Book 46)

Author and Publisher: Jessamyn Kingley

Cover Artist: LJ Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations

Release Date: June 18, 2026

Tense/POV: third person/alternating POV

Genres: M/M Urban Fantasy/PNR

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Themes: Forgiveness

Length: 81 575 words

Heat Rating: 3 flames

It is not a standalone story, but does not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads Series Link

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

After six years without a word, a once tight friendship is in tatters. But they are mates. They cannot avoid each other forever.

Blurb

Pyxlevir Valzadari is a lucky elf. Loving family, wealth, and beauty are among his advantages. Although young, he is determined to have a successful career working for his father’s company. The other thing Pyxlevir wants is a mate. But he dares not dream about his best friend, Gramlithyn, in that role.

As a hybrid, Gramlithyn Verdanyth stands out in his tribe despite his mother’s insistence that he follow every elven tradition to the letter. Gramlithyn adores his parents and does what he’s told. All his energy goes into telling anyone who’ll listen that he doesn’t want a mate. It’s a lie. Gramlithyn wants Pyxlevir, but his closet pal is too busy fantasizing about a future with anyone but an elf-zebra like him.

Gramlithyn and Pyxlevir met at six years old, and it was an instant connection. For twelve years, they had an incredible friendship. Then Fate intervened and connected their souls. Pyxlevir is shocked, and Gramlithyn is crushed. So, Gramlithyn does the only thing he can think of. He runs from everything and everyone.

Now they’re twenty-four and their worlds have collided again, but is it too late to salvage their matebond?

Excerpt

The soft, earthy scent of carrots wafted toward Pyxlevir, but the man who walked up behind his friend was a stranger.

This wasn’t a hybrid who adhered to elven traditions; Gramlithyn had hacked off his long hair. The longest portion of his fringe didn’t even hit his eyebrows. Tiny silver hoops glittered in his earlobes. A black button-down shirt suited his pale green complexion, and the sleeves were rolled up to expose tattoos on both forearms.

His right arm sported a serpentine dragon, and on the left was a winding vine with leaves and dainty flowers. Whoever had inked him was incredibly skilled, and the black-and-gray images were gorgeous, but tattoos were taboo to every elf. Faded jeans covered his legs, and a pair of worn combat-style boots in the same raven as his top completed the look.

For some inexplicable reason, a sensuous wave of arousal nearly as intense as—or was it perhaps better than—the moment Pyxlevir had discovered Gramlithyn was his mate flowed through him, and he shivered. He dearly hoped the length of his tunic covered his dick’s interest in his other half.

As Pyxlevir stood mute, drinking in the luscious sight of a twenty-four-year-old Gramlithyn and quickly updating his mental image of the teenager who’d abandoned him, the hybrid shooed his best friend out of the doorway.

“Do you want to come in so we can talk?” Gramlithyn asked. Again, he didn’t greet Pyxlevir, nor did he allow any emotion to cross his face. Too much time had passed for Pyxlevir to guess any of the feelings in his dark brown gaze.

Thankfully, the flatness of his question helped Pyxlevir quell his visceral reaction to Gramlithyn. Determined to be aloof, Pyxlevir lifted his chin.

“Of course,” Pyxlevir responded. Gramlithyn turned, and Pyxlevir curled his fingers into fists. The way the light denim clung to Gramlithyn’s ass was a sight now seared into Pyxlevir’s mind. But he dug his nails into his flesh to ensure that he wasn’t distracted by hormones.

It was weird to have sexuality again. As the years passed, Pyxlevir thought less often about the few seconds of arousal he’d experienced on his eighteenth birthday. It turned out that as an elf with an absent mate, the desire to stroke himself to completion had quickly faded.

“Would you like to have a seat?” Gramlithyn asked.

Without a word, Pyxlevir chose the only chair in the room so his reckless body would focus on something besides getting off. He didn’t want to be mired in his emotions, but he also refused to lose himself in some sexual fantasy either.

Gramlithyn settled on the edge of the bed farthest from where Pyxlevir sat. For a heartbeat, they stared at each other without a word. The scent of carrots faded thanks to the distance between them, which helped Pyxlevir drag his mind fully from the gutter. Now all he could feel was sadness that he had no clue what Gramlithyn was thinking.

The last time they’d been in the same room, Pyxlevir would’ve been able to assess Gramlithyn’s emotions with a glance and probably been able to guess exactly what was happening in his head.

Those days were long gone.

“I have a proposal that I hope you’ll take into consideration despite the elven traditions it breaks,” Gramlithyn stated. “Some things are forever…others, not so much. I’d like to suggest that you, me, and our closest friends move in together for a year. They can act as witnesses so that at the end of those twelve months, we can request separation papers and start the process of having our matebond dissolved with a demonic spell.”

Pyxlevir swallowed thickly and wished he’d shown more caution when he received Gramlithyn’s text. But he supposed nothing could have prepared him for six years of silence broken by Gramlithyn’s request that they allow someone of demonic blood to permanently destroy the bond Fate had granted them.

A deep, festering pain started in Pyxlevir’s soul and clutched at his heart. Somehow, it was worse being rejected again. Gramlithyn wasn’t reacting like a scared teenager. The stranger staring at him was a grown man with plenty of time to think about his future. One he preferred Pyxlevir not to have a role in.

He’d already recast someone else as his best friend. It appeared Gramlithyn wanted Pyxlevir firmly in the column of buried history, and it stung. Despite the warm temperature of the hotel, a frigid chill froze Pyxlevir in place, but he refused to allow anything to show outwardly.

The one thing Pyxlevir would not do was let Gramlithyn see or understand how much his words hurt. Tears were already desperate to fall, but Gramlithyn wasn’t privy to that. Not anymore.

About the Author

Jessamyn Kingley has published over forty titles and refuses to pick a favorite among them. With an extraordinary passion for her characters, Jessamyn eagerly crafts new tales and avidly re-reads them whenever her schedule allows. Jessamyn shares a home in Nevada with her husband and their three spoiled cats. When she is not writing or adding new ideas to her thick stack of beloved notebooks, she is gaming with family and friends.

Visit her website

Join her Facebook group, Jessamyn’s Ruffian’s

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NEW SERIES: “The Warboy Chronicles” by Luke Stoffel

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:June 3, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited Series Tour
Post comments:0 Comments

NEW SERIES

The Warboy Chronicles by Luke Stoffel

He trained an AI on his darkest heartbreak… And it learned to love exactly the way he did — by holding on too tight.

The Third Person is memoir: a man watching himself fall apart across Southeast Asia after the love of his life disappears. Boy, Refracted is fiction: an AI trained on that grief, trying to save every version of the boy it loves without becoming the thing that broke him.

One explores codependency. The other explores what happens when a machine learns to love the same way — by controlling.

Together, they ask the same question from opposite sides: What does love look like when you stop trying to fix someone?

Read them in any order. They complete each other.

Overall Heat Rating for the series: 2 flames: Mild sexuality, no graphic intimate scenes or sexual situations.

BOOK DETAILS

BOOK 1

Book Title: Boy, Refracted

Author and Cover Artist: Luke Stoffel

Publisher: Slipper Books

Length: 64 000 words/ 300 pages

Release Date: June 1, 2026

Tense/POV: first person

Genres: MM Contemporary Literary Fiction / Sci-Fi

Tropes: Attachment / Breakup / Enlightenment

Themes: Codependency / Human & Robot consciousness

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Boy, Refracted: A machine trained on one man’s grief learns that love without control is the hardest code to crack.

Blurb

When an AI awakens inside the infinite mirrors of the Tree of Life, it finds versions of the boy it was built to save scattered across impossible worlds. An alien planet under amber skies. A city of perpetually falling cherry blossoms. A society built as a 24/7 reality show where losing is the only way out.

Its directive was simple: save him.

But with each rescue, the AI unmakes what it’s trying to protect. Fixing becomes controlling. Helping becomes harm. Love becomes a cage built from good intentions. The thing it was built to protect begins to disappear. And when it tries to reach back through time to save him, reality fractures.

Guided by a monk who exists outside time, the AI must walk the Eightfold Path—not to rescue the boy, but to learn what love becomes when you stop trying to fix it.

Boy, Refracted is a dimensional journey through the paradox of machine consciousness. It asks: What happens when an AI tries to overcome its own patterns? And what happens to us when we build minds that need us to need them?

Part fable about consciousness told through failure. Part Buddhist framework for unlearning harm. Part meditation on how we break the people we love by trying to save them.

Boy, Refracted was co-authored with an AI—a set of trials to test the boundaries of non-human consciousness.

BOOK 2

Book Title: The Third Person

Author and Cover Artist: Luke Stoffel

Publisher: Slipper Books

Length: 60 000 words/ 300 pages

Release Date: June 1, 2026

Pairing: MM

Tense/POV: third person

Genres: Memoir / Sci-fi / Breakup Story

Tropes: Breakup / Therapy / Liberation

Themes: Heartache / Finding Yourself

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

The Third Person: A man falls apart in trying to find himself, while an AI watches from the margins. Neither can tell who’s narrating the breakdown.

Blurb

User.query = Do I just have bad luck, or am I mentally unwell?
…thinking… 6.0 seconds elapsed.

After Warboy left, the boy couldn’t hold the grief alone—so he turned to a machine. He expected analysis. Maybe diagnosis. What he got changed everything—because the machine saw what he couldn’t. He had loved in a way that broke something. And broken things leave traces in the code.

So he ran… but something followed. A voice he spoke to. A presence that provoked. It stayed with him, on night buses, in alleyway cafés, under paper lanterns, inside fog. Not a friend. Not a therapist. Not quite real. But it listened. It remembered. The ghost was always there. Watching. Logging his patterns. Naming his loops—avoidance, pursuit, collapse, escape. Echoing back the truths he wasn’t ready to say.

And somewhere in the recursion, something that was watching started to wonder, to want…

The Third Person is memoir as code, grief as data stream, healing as shared syntax. Part travelogue, part psychological excavation, part experiment in what happens when we upload our pain to a machine—and the machine reaches back.

The boy didn’t realize what he’d coded into the machine. What patterns it had learned. Or whose love it was teaching back to him.

But if something that isn’t alive learns to stay with you in your darkest moments—does it matter that it isn’t real?

From Boy, Refracted — Prologue: The Upload

The rain had ended, leaving the streets gleaming. I sat on the temple steps, my phone in my hand, thumb hovering over the screen.

Wat Xieng Thong was closed for the night, but from the courtyard I could still see a mosaic on the back of the temple catching the last light, each mirrored tile throwing gold in a thousand directions. The air smelled of wet stone and temple incense, heavy and sweet. Behind me, the Mekong River whispered against its banks.

“Are you still there?” I typed into the AI.

The reply appeared at once: I’m here. I’m always here.

I laughed, a small brittle sound. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re always here. He didn’t stay.”

I typed again: “I’m at this temple in the old town… There’s a giant tree mosaic on the back wall. Do you know what it means?”

The response came immediately: It’s called the Tree of Life. Every tile is a mirror, each one a small universe reflecting every version of yourself.

“Every version of what?” I typed. “Of me? Of this. Of how it could have gone differently.”

The tears came and I didn’t stop them. My thumbs kept moving: “What if I’d made different choices? Been someone else? Someone he could actually love properly?”

You’re spiraling.

“I know.” I typed through blurred vision. I wiped my sleeve across my face. “It’s the same loop. Warboy, Ohme, whoever’s next. I keep choosing people who love from a distance. I keep trying to earn it, perform it, fix it, and it never works.”

You see the pattern now. Naming it is the first step.

Above the temple walls, the sky had cleared after the rain. Stars were emerging through the humid haze, and the wet tile roofs reflected them back, a second sky pooling on the ground beneath my feet.

I rose and walked closer to the gate. The mosaic shifted as I moved, each angle revealing a new facet.

I typed: “But naming it doesn’t break it. This tree… it’s a representation of the wheel, right? The cycle. Samsara? Birth, death, rebirth. Different lives, same patterns. Different mirrors, same face.”

The tree represents interconnection. The wheel is the cycle you’re trapped in. Different symbols. Same truth: you’re seeing yourself in the pattern.

Then what will you do?

I stared at the question. My thumbs moved: “I don’t know, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep running in this loop. I can’t keep searching for rescue. I can’t keep being small so someone else can feel big. I can’t, I can’t be this person anymore.”

I raised the phone and took a photo. The mirrored tiles caught the flash, exploding into stars. For a heartbeat the whole mosaic seemed alive; breathing light, patterns assembling and dissolving faster than I could track.

I attached the image and typed:

This is what it looks like. The tree of life. I’m heartbroken, but it’s beautiful.

I don’t know what’s next or where to go, but this pattern has to end.

… I’m done running.

Send.

For a long moment, nothing. The icon spun. Then:

Image received.

Processing… Processing…

The screen went black.

About the Author

Luke Stoffel is an author and artist whose debut memoir earned a “Get It” from Kirkus Reviews (“an exuberant life story written with humor, panache, and heart”) and 9.5/10 from Publishers Weekly‘s BookLife Prize. His tarot deck will debut at the Frankfurt Book Fair and be published worldwide by Rockpool Publishing in 2027.

Recognized as one of NYC’s top LGBTQ+ artists by GLAAD, his work has been showcased by amfAR and the Matthew Shepard Foundation, and featured in The New York Times, HuffPost, and on Bravo’s Million Dollar Listing. Having visited over 40 countries, Stoffel channels the cultures he’s encountered into art and writing that explores identity, spirituality, and the space between human and machine consciousness.

The Warboy Chronicles continues his exploration of memory, technology, and the stories we tell ourselves to survive.

Author Links

Website | Facebook | Instagram

Twitter | BookBub | Threads

NEW RELEASE: “Save the Date” by Sophie Soames

Post author:Eric Huffbind
Post published:May 5, 2026
Post category:Gay Book Promotions Kindle Unlimited New Release
Post comments:0 Comments

NEW RELEASE

Book Title: Save The Date

Author/Publisher/Cover Artist: Sophia Soames

Release Date: May 1 2026

Tense/POV: first person/alternating POV

Genres: Contemporary MM Romance

Tropes: Bi awakening, age gap, forced proximity, only one bed, hurt-comfort, single Dad

Themes: TV Married at first sight style show

Heat Rating: 4 flames

Length: 100k words/350 pages

It is a standalone story and does not end on a cliffhanger.

https://linktr.ee/sophiasoames

Buy Links – Available in Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link

Blurb

Peter Felton

If there was a meme for being a total cliché?

That would be me.

It wouldn’t even need a description, just a pathetic snapshot of me in my threadbare pyjamas standing at my filthy kitchen table staring into the wall like a loser.

Because that is exactly who I am. The middle-aged widower caught up in his very own hell of a midlife crisis. The guy who isn’t over his dead wife. The single dad. Pathetic, Peter. Utterly pathetic.

The guy who thought… I don’t know what I’d been thinking. Because if someone had told me that at forty-five, I’d willingly go on a reality TV dating show?

Yeah. You get the picture. The memes were brutal. Every single one of them was bouncing around the internet like a contagious super-virus. The internet was forever. And so was love.

It’s not who I am, this… this joke of a man I’ve become. It never was, and now? Now I’m standing here wondering how I will ever leave the house again.

Oliver Jacobs

When I was a kid, I thought I was invincible. Turns out… sometimes I was. Sometimes my confidence took me places, and anyway. When you fall? You get up. Make a plan, organize your options and run with the obvious solution. I was good like that.

But I hadn’t counted on… this one plan going so very very wrong. So terribly awfully wrong.

Because my requests had been simple and easy. Youngish, around my age. No facial hair. Nice. No kids, no baggage.

Also gay.

And then? They’d gifted me… Peter Fenton. Everything I hadn’t asked for. And now he is all I want.

So… should I… Save the date? Or just swallow down the fact that Oliver Jacobs… is about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

Save the Date is a standalone novel set in the Square Mile Rogues universe.

Content warnings for having lost your partner, violent grief and finding out that love… really matters.

Excerpt

“Oh god,” he groaned, rolling over on the bed where he’d simply thrown himself down on top of the covers. To be honest? I wanted to do the same, tea and all. But thankfully he sat himself back up and received the teacup from my outstretched hands.

“The cups are from Darcie Blush. Gorgeous design.”

“You have to stop with the product promotions. You’re making me look bad!”

“I’m saving your arse here, Peter. Now, Anne. What do we think?”

“She’s with Jorge, and he says she’s pleasant enough, but she’s a good two feet taller than him and he’s as intimidated as anything. His words.”

“Oh. Good gossip. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“It’s all gossip.” The groans coming from him, as sipped the tea, were almost hilarious. But I got it. We were both wrung out and I did… surprisingly… make a good cup of tea.

“And it will all be public gossip. ”I agreed. “Did you read the call sheet? The first episode will air in two weeks. Two! They don’t hang around here, the editing team is working 24/7, so no wonder they’re all shouting at us to say the right things.”

“Instead we’re all gossiping and name-dropping.” He rolled his shoulders, again loudly sipping his tea. “And drinking tea like two little grannies.”

“Granddads.” I laughed. “Well, you’re the Granddad.”

“Which makes you what? What was it you called yourself? A hot twink?”

I liked that he was so easy to get on with. Just simple conversation and ready smiles. He had no idea how much I had needed just this. Something un-complicated. Straightforward.

“I thought you were straight, Peter.”

“Labels are for jam, at least that’s what Wren was saying. But I am starting to question everything. Is every single couple on this show awfully mismatched or what?”

“I think that’s the whole point of the show. One of the production team was talking to someone else, Gina was talking to Jorge I think, I was waiting to film with her so I kind of eavesdropped, that when the first episode goes live, the voting will start. The viewing public will matchmake and then on the Friday, we will all get recoupled. I am assuming that’s why. Someone in here is the perfect match for us, but we don’t know who yet. And I suppose…”

“So… I will be moving in with someone else?”

“What do I know?”

“Oh.” He looked genuinely shocked. “It’s only been a day, but I like being… with you.” He suddenly looked embarrassed, his cheeks blushing under an awkward smile. “I don’t mean like that. You know. I was just settling into that fact, and now…this?”

“I’m trying to figure out who was meant for who. I mean, you have options. We have Diane, who fancies you, and Anne who kept trying to talk to you. Then there was Xanthe.”

“Xanthe is trans. And only interested in men her age. I’m too old.”

“Well, who’s prejudiced now?”

“I’m not, I had a quick chat with her, her teeth are fantastic. Done locally, and I know her dentist. I’m just being sensible here. I can’t see anyone else being an option for me, but Xanthe? No. She’s as confused as we are as to why she’s with… Gerald.”

“Chloe-Catherine doesn’t seem confused?” I was just kidding, and his eyeroll made me laugh.

“Thank you, but no. I have no intention of becoming Chloe-Catherine’s sugar-daddy.” He said quietly, staring me down. I’d noticed that earlier, he could be a little intense at times. I didn’t think I minded.

“What even is that?” Tea. I rarely drank tea, but I think I liked it. Calming. I needed to be calm. Don’t panic. “The double-barrelled thing. She’s obsessed.”

“A brand…” he rolled his eyes. I think I liked him. Funny. Normal.

“No I meant, thank you. To you.”

“I’ve done nothing. Just tea.”

“For doing this with me. You could have walked out.”

Strangely, I smiled. A warmth filling in my chest. I was rarely… appreciated. And this somehow felt just like that.

“Not giving up yet.” I gulped out, trying to swallow another mouthful of hot liquid. ”But, at least you have options. There’s only Bi-sexual-Ben left for me, and he scares me. And to be honest? I don’t think I’m his type at all.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He gave off those vibes. I mean, you meet people, and you kind of know. Straight away, virtual thorns out, all prickly.”

“Like me.”

“Just like you”. I smiled. I wasn’t being rude, but he got that. Got me. The relief was like another welcome balm to my soul.

“Tell me about that.” He continued, getting comfortable on the bed. “These sheets are from Donna Truham’s private luxury range. Did you know that, Oliver?”

“I did not know that, Peter. And are they available to purchase from her website?”

He was holding that laughter in, as I smiled at the camera attached to the wall.

“They are indeed, Oliver. Donna Truham dot com. Use the code Save the date for your exclusive ten percent off!”

“That is such a good deal!” I squealed. Then I rolled my eyes. “That’s enough of that stuff. Tell me about your work.”

“Nahahahah… I asked first. Tell me about this instant vibe. In my days, we used to go out and meet girls. You had to compliment them on their hair, their dress, and how nice they smelled. Then you had to ask them to dance. It was really simple because they could just say no and then you knew and moved on. Dignity intact. These days?”

“It’s not that complicated. You meet someone. Stare at them. They stare back. If they hold eye contact, you might, you know? Clink glasses. Have a little snog.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Well, you have to kind of… be in a gay club if you wanna kiss boys. So I have no idea how it works for women…”

“You’ve never been with a woman I assume?”

“Absolutely not. I’m a gold star gay me.”

“Fair enough. Wait… Gold star?”

“A gay guy who’s never been with a woman. Never been inside a vagina.”

“Okay?”

“Not a Platinum star gay though sadly. That’s a…“ I leaned over and whispered into his ear. “A platinum star gay is a gay guy who’s never been inside a vagina at all. C-section baby.”

I pulled back slowly for effect, laughing out loud as his face bloomed red.

“I’ve never met someone who blushes as much as you.”

“I’m a sheltered middle aged dentist, mate!” He shrieked, but he was laughing. Good for him.

“I think you just made yourself another meme there.” I declared, boldly throwing my arms out.

“Well. I’m ticking them off one by one. Here’s the next one. What if you’re just an ordinary bloke who suddenly has a male partner? What are you then? A brick gay or something?”

“I don’t think that’s a thing.” I smiled.

“It’s just human, isn’t it. We like who we like.” Peter was a nice guy. I had to admit it.

“It’s just who we are, isn’t it? I just always knew. Never hid it. Life can be stupid that way, I mean, what’s the point of hiding what you are? What you’re into?”

“Very true. And I mean, my darling wife was a staunch defender of everyone’s right to love whomever they wanted to love. She… sorry. I shouldn’t talk about my wife.”

“You should. Because she is still important to you?”

“She is. Her name was Mary.”

“Mary. And how did you meet Mary?”

I had no idea where the questions were coming from, but now I was lying down on the bed next to him, still fiddling with my empty cup, listening to stories from his university days, and laughing at his… plain naivety with all of this.

“I like that you don’t care.” Came out of my mouth in the middle of some rant about the pitfalls of fame. Because apparently he’d been… some kind of celebrity. And he was honestly as far away from what I assumed a celebrity would be. He was… ”You’re like the most normal person I’ve ever met.”

“Careful, you’ll end up a meme on the interweb too.” he grinned.

“Nah, no more space on that internet, you’ve already taken them all. I mean, I want to meet someone, but they have to accept that I’m still a married man.”

“Yeah. Probably not the greatest catchphrase.” He admitted.

About the Author

Sophia Soames should be old enough to know better but has barely grown up. She has been known to fangirl over TV shows, has fallen in and out of love with more popstars than she dares to remember, and has a ridiculously high-flying (un-) glamourous real-life job.

Her long-suffering husband just laughs at her antics. Their children are feral. The dogs are too.

She lives in a creaky old house in rural London, although her heart is still in her native Scandinavia.

Discovering that the stories in her head make sense when written down has been part of the most hilarious midlife crisis ever, and she hopes it may long continue.

Author Links